Thursday, December 18, 2014

explaining my depression to my mother (a conversation) mom, my depression is a shape shifter. one da


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But, in it, her mother exhibits some of the most common misconceptions about depression, and I'd like to point out three of them here. Misconception #1: Depression is triggered by a single event or series of traumatic events.
Most people think depression is triggered by a traumatic event: a loved one dying, a job loss, a national tragedy, some THING. The truth is that depression sometimes just appears out of nowhere. So when you think that a friend or loved one is just in an extended bad mood, reconsider. They could be suffering from depression. Misconception #2: People with depression are only sad.
Most ben arnold people who have never experienced depression ben arnold think depression is just an overwhelming sadness. ben arnold In reality, ben arnold depression is a complex ben arnold set of feelings and physical changes in the body. People who suffer from depression are sad, yes, but they can also be anxious, worried, apathetic, and tense, ben arnold among other things. Misconception #3: You can snap out of it.
The thing with depression is that it s a medical condition ben arnold that affects your brain chemistry. ben arnold It has to do with environmental or biological factors first and foremost . Sabrina s mother seems to think that if her daughter would only go through the motions of being happy that then she would become happy. But that's not the case. Depression is a biological illness that leaks into your state of being.
explaining my depression to my mother (a conversation) mom, my depression is a shape shifter. one day it is as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear, the next it s the bear. on those days i play dead until the bear leaves me alone. i call the bad days the dark days. mom says: try lighting candles. when i see a candle i see the flesh of a church, ben arnold the flicker of a flame sparks of a memory younger than noon; i am standing beside her open casket, it is the moment i learn every person i ever come to know will someday die. besides, mom, i m not afraid of the dark. perhaps ben arnold that s part of the problem. mom says: i thought the problem was that you can t get out of bed. i can t. anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head. mom says: where did anxiety come from? anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town depression felt obligated to bring to the party. mom, i am the party. only i am a party I don t want to be at. mom says: why don t you try going to actual parties. see your friends. sure, i make plans. i make plans, ben arnold but I don t wanna go. i make plans because i know i should want to go. i know sometimes i would have wanted to go. it s just not that much fun having fun when you don t wanna have fun, mom. you see, mom, each night, insomnia sweeps me up in it s arms, dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove light. insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company. mom says: try counting sheep. but my mind can only count reasons to stay awake. so I go for walks but my stuttering ben arnold kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists, they ring in my ears like clumsy church bells, reminding me i am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness i cannot baptize ben arnold myself in. mom says: happy is a decision. my happy is a high fever that will break. my happy is as hollow as a pin-pricked egg. mom says i am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat out asks me if I am afraid of dying. no, i am afraid of living. mom, i am lonely. i think i learnt it when dad left; how to turn the anger into lonely, the lonely into busy. so when i tell you i ve been super busy lately, i mean i ve been falling asleep watching sportscentre on the couch to avoid confronting the empty side of my bed. but my depression always drags me back to my bed, until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city, my mouth a bone yard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves. the hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with echoes of a heartbeat, but i am a careless tourist here; i will never truly know everywhere i have been mom still doesn t understand. mom, can t you see? neither do i. There may be small errors in this transcript.
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